Ann Arbor is painfully beautiful when it is empty. There’s something about the empty streets that makes it seem like a better place—not because the world is better without people, because that is a lie and lies are not good, but just because the streets themselves are so beautiful, maybe? People are a distraction—without people to look at, or worry about—you can look at the lines of the buildings that are just the right size. Not too big, not too small. Sometimes, they’re a bit too crowded together, but they’re exquisite in their own right as well.

If you ask me, I’d say that the only times the law quad is really, no question about it, downright breath taking is during the night when it is snowing, or the very early morning in any season. This is because:

1. At night, there is no one in the law quad, so there is no one to ruin the snow. When there are large snowflakes falling, I think someone could easily confuse their present location and heaven. Just maybe.

2. The early morning leaves it untouched as well. The world normally seems more enchanting than usual when it’s the early hours and the sun hasn’t been around for very long. That’s just how it is and we all know it.


This morning I found myself walking along North University at 5:45am. This is a disgustingly early hour, I know. I did make it to work on time and had the pleasure of standing outside with a Puerto Rican man who works there, waiting for a manager to come and open the door. He has this thick accent, so thick that I sometimes cannot understand him. But it’s not thick like that one professor, the father of one of my elementary school classmates and the one who I almost did research with my sophomore year of college, where it’s so thick and melodic that sometimes you forget which language they’re speaking and it tricks you into thinking it’s Spanish, but only in English [you dig?].

So I found myself walking along the street and found myself surprised whenever I saw another human being. The lights on Washtenaw and Geddes were still flashing. There’s something scary about the morning, moreso than the late night. Five am is more daunting when I’m beginning my day than five am is when I’m ending it. This is probably because going home at five am means you’re fucking ready to sleep and not much in the world will get in the way of your head making its way to your pillow. At five am in the morning, on the other hand, you’re not quite awake and your mind is still in that day/dreaming state where your [my] imagination seems a bit too real. This is my main problem in life, I’ll admit (okay, not main, but wouldn’t that be phatty if that was the worst problem I had? Shiiiiit).

I thought I would die until I had my first cup of coffee. One of these days, I will begin sleeping and eating like a normal human being.


Yesterday, we were stickering calendars (they’re now 50% off, if you were wondering) and I was speaking to a coworker. He said something stupid about not missing television, not missing watching the news, because what does it really matter anyway? Why would he need to know about the elections in the Ukraine? How does it affect him?

I couldn’t believe I was hearing such stupid things coming out of his mouth, but I had the damnedest time articulating why it does matter. Partially, I know that he was just kidding me, but at the same time that’s… you know, it’s everything.

I’m not going out there to protest, why should I watch and why should I care? It didn’t change/influence/affect my life at all to stop watching them, to not know what is going on in the world—how does it touch my life here? What can I do about it?

Mostly, I wanted to throw calendars at him. You can say everything you want. That’s what I did. I verbalized every thought in my head, beside the ones that would disturb the sweet old ladies drinking coffee in the café behind us.

Overall, it was—I’m not sure, interesting?





I did two things in the last two or three days that have left me disturbed:

1. Watched House of Sand and Fog. What the fuck? That’s all I really want to comment on that. Well, also that my love for Jennifer Connelly will burn forever. It began with Labyrinth and even a crappy movie can’t make it stop. [last comment is that Andres Dubus III's father is infinitely a better writer than his son--sad, but true. The man was a genius--his words carry a weight that they normally don't and are not usually meant to. Simply stunning]

2. Finished reading Into the Wild by Jon Krakauer. It’s not like you don’t know that Christopher McCandless dies in the end—it tells you that right on the cover of the book, but, for some odd reason, the last few chapters of the book left me so sad. Ridiculously sad. But not sad in the same way that Douglas Coupland’s Hey, Nostradamus! left me sad [yesterday, Tank and I were discussing why and how in the hell this book could be so depressing—and we concluded that it’s just because it’s a book we can relate to. The major school shootings began when we were finishing up high school, so maybe it’s not that far off a thing to imagine?]



I suppose I should eat something before I go and finish up work. Perhaps.

The day began nice and early at 9am when I struggled out of bed so that I could shower and not be smelly on Christmas Day. The night before, we had stayed up pretty late. I made the little sister watch Fahrenheit 9/11 because she doesn’t hear enough—she doesn’t see enough. I have my own criticisms on that movie, but the things I’d really wanted to see were the interviews with people who were touched the most. At least to hear the names of people involved.

It was my dad, his wife and all the kids, plus a neighbor and a close family friend. The entire day was lovely, it was nice to spend time around Dad and everyone else that I don’t see very often. In the last few years, he’s become an entirely different person and I’m glad for him. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so happy—it’s nice.

On the other hand, Christmas was odd because that’s not how we’ve ever celebrated Christmas before (not that it was bad—remember, I already said it was lovely). It was nice, but it didn’t feel like Christmas to me, you know? It left me wondering the rest of the day (and today) what the hell that actually means. What the hell is Christmas anyway? This year: being forced to listen to waaay too much religious holiday music at work, noticing how little anyone entertains the notion that maybe not everyone celebrates it, a few other things that I won’t get into here.

Afterward, we went to my grandmother’s. She and Tommy gave me the cutest teddy bear ever—it’s just like the one that my friend gave me a few years ago. Same pattern on the bow (different color) and same expression on the face (yet different fur). We talked about so many things, I don’t know how I could ever remember. It’s always fun to hear her talk about things like her family—the things we could never know if they weren’t so apt to tell stories. Last night, she brings up her maternal grandfather and says German. We say, German?? What about Irish??? She says, German, Irish, whatever. All that European stuff.

I officially must speak to my great aunt, her older sister, about this now. There will be no confusing of this one. Must get to the bottom of it.



Had to struggle to work by 7am this morning. Yes, I know, that's what I thought, too. I better be dancing down the street when I get my next paycheck for all the hours I'm wasting at this place. Tomorrw, I have to be there at six am, which is about six and a half hours from now. I have to leave the house in six hours and fifteen minutes in order to be on time.

We plan on going to the bar tomorrow night. I want to find out if ABC still has that Irish stout that I am in love with before I waste my time and head over there. If they don't, we may as well stay closer on campus.


Also, tonight. After the family gathering (from which I brought back obscene amounts of cheese and crackers, sweets and overall yumminess), we stopped two houses down and visited a friend of Mom's. Janice--a woman who has two of the most beautiful dogs you could ever wish to see. A German Shepard and I forgot what the other dog is called, but it is tiny and long-haired and pure white. Made me miss Zero bunches and bunches--and made me want another dog very badly. We'll see.

First of all, the house is quiet and I am more than bored.

Let's continue:

Perks of working in a bookstore:
*Jem--finally woken
*MTV2 Presents--(short list) [includes: jem, the killers, franz ferdinand, tv on the radio, air, wilco, the streets, etc]
*Ben Harper & the Blind Boys of Alabama--there will be a light

Checked out:
*Best Travel Writing 2004
*The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time

Those are the promos i took home today. There are two Tom Petty promos just waiting for me. calling my name... I was so sad, but I had to leave them both there today--it was like forsaking my own flesh and blood. I swear it will never happen again.

At present, I'm waiting for the sister to come back from this Christmas party my dad tried to guilt me into going to after I got out of work. There aren't many things I want to do after I get out of work--I'll keep my innocent image by not saying what those few things are--and going to a Christmas party isn't one of them. Tomorrow morning, I hear they're coming here after they get out of church and picking us up. We'll spend the day at their house--I'm not exactly sure what they do, but we'll find out. Jassen will come later in the day and maybe we'll make it out toward Detroit to see the mother. Otherwise, there is the family gathering on Sunday.

The best thing about working are the customers who walk through the store speaking languages I can't understand all the way. Today, an older couple was speaking russian when I was putting away books in the Psychology nook. I tihnk that might be the next language I look into learning--maybe French, but Russian seems like more fun.


Also: Can you tell me where you guys keep the [oversized] books?
Yes, sir. They are right next to the Red Book section.


Fuckin' a. I lost the hummus recipe already. The best hummus on earth, and I lose the recipe. Figures.

Apparently, it snowed about three feet last night and I have to be at work in an hour and a half. There are thirty dollars in my pocket that belong to my brother so that I can purchase christmas presents for both my dad and his wife. Not really sure what to get either, the only thing that really crosses my mind is getting something Irish. Casidhe just said something about celtic christmas music, but I had to remind her that a gift of Christmas music on Christmas might be a bit too late. Right?

I'm hoping the snow will keep people out of work. Kind of like they were last night. Whoever heard of a bookstore being open until midnight? Do people honestly shop for books after ten pm? The answer is no, in case you were wondering. The store is near dead after ten and I am stuck there with a glazed look on my face, with nothing to really do except the things I don't like doing at all. Beside that, most of my favorite people leave around nine so there is no one to goof off with. Every now and then, an AIESECer will wander through and help me waste a tiny increment of time. Now that it's so late into break, there's hardly anyone around and I'm that much more bored. These are the hours where daydreaming is rampant. Nevermind, that's always.

My sister is watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer and translating it to me as if it's another language. I used to have some friends that thought this show was the answer. To what, I'm not sure.

all alright

There's this funny thing I do to myself during break--you know, not really taking a break.

I handed in my last serious paper last Wednesday, Thursday I lounged around and did nothing, then came Friday and the work has not stopped. Sixty-four hours in eight days. I'm doing forty-nine hours alone this week, which will look very, veerrrry nice in my bank account. Nine hours of overtime makes a girl happy, but these fool customers do not.

I swear.

When I'm really bored at work, or just can't focus on the silly requests I'm getting, I think about what I'm going to do with it all. I'll have what I worked right now and then my financial aid money. Obviously, the first thing I'm going to do is check on conferences going on globally. No brainer there.

I plan on doing a two week spring break somewhere. I'm hoping to find a good conference going on and then just stay in the country for another week. Maybe longer, if it really seems like a good place to be. C'mon, let's be honest about this whole education stuff--being in a classroom isn't the most important thing when ti comes to my majors. I'd rather be off living somewhere and taking a shitty grade.

The other thing I'm considering is getting a car and just driving around for a while. I want to go out and see the reservations, get in touch with some family we fell out of touch with. My great aunt used to go every year to the family reunion they held in Missouri. I plan on cornering her at the Christmas gathering on Sunday and talk her into going again. It'd be nice to spend a few days with her and hear all the stories she can remember.

Here's to graduation. And here's to money because now I'm back off to work.

It really is sad when people know they should go into your work to find you. Tells me it's time to win the lotto.

Work is hell. Customers are hell. I'm glad that I can hide in the back room far away from all of them most of the time. When I walked in the door and saw the line extending down the ramp, I was more than ready to turn around and leave leave leave. I stayed. It was long--whenever I come home, it feels about ten years later.

We went to Leopold's after work and i had the worst white russian ever. i'm really disappointed--even wish I'd gotten a beer instead. Really, I wish it'd been at ABC and I could have gotten that Irish stout that makes my insides melt into this puddle of goodness.

Brian [aka, TANK] was just ridiculously wasted. I was going to buy him a drink for his birthday, but decided it would be a bad thing to make someone puke at the bar on their birthday. or, you know, just in general.

My legs are still cold from being outside, but it makes me happy either way. There's something about coming inside and warming up that makes everything that much better.

On another note, I didn't get the Teach for America thing. I thought I'd be more upset about it if I didn't get it--but I'm really not. I'm kind of excited. Really scared, but excited, nonetheless. The world is so big and now I'm really going to push myself to find out how big it is.

This is my opportunity to:
1. scare the shit out of myself
2. push myself to do what i really want to--no falling back on something practical
3. travel while i have no obligations whatsoever
4. find out what life is all about by living it

My favorite trick, the best one I've learned in all of my life, is scaring the shit out of myself. Somehow, everything ends up okay in the end. Better than okay.

Also, I'll be honest, I love my ITM girls more than I know how to explain. ITM is the best thing that ever happened to me. BEST REC'NIZE.

[p.s. i think van morrison's i'll be your lover, too is probably the best love-ish song ever written. that is a strong statement said on purpose.]

Maybe my favorite thing to do is wake up without an alarm clock. Just let the sunshine do it. Because then you stretch out and curl up further into your blankets. The only thing that makes it better is when my dog is around and he’ll come up and poke you straight in the face in a way that says, get up, you lazyass motherfucker, and take me outside.


It’s funny how sometimes you have to think hard to remember what’s beautiful about, well, anything. Waking up in the morning like that and walking at night until I’m numb from the cold always remind me of how good everything can be. For some reason, the shitty winter weather and walking outside in it, it really does that. Then again, I suppose everything looks beautiful at night—for the most part.





Cuba erects billboard attacking U.S. Retaliation for U.S. diplomatic mission's Christmas display
HAVANA, Cuba (AP) -- Cuba retaliated for the U.S. diplomatic mission's Christmas display supporting Cuban dissidents by putting up a billboard Friday emblazoned with photographs of American soldiers abusing Iraqi prisoners and a huge swastika overlaid with a "Made in the U.S.A." stamp.

Poll: Majority of seniors support medical marijuana
WASHINGTON (AP) -- Nearly three-fourths of older Americans support legalizing marijuana for medical use, according to a poll done for the nation's largest advocacy group for seniors.

200 children attend party at Neverland
Jackson spent 10 minutes talking to kids


Poll shows U.S. views on Muslim-Americans
Nearly half of those surveyed say some rights should be restricted
A recent survey by Cornell University found that found 44 percent of Americans favor at least some restrictions on the civil liberties of Muslim Americans. Forty-eight percent said liberties should not be restricted in any way.



Stem cells from fat used to repair girl's skull
Doctors report damaged bone grew back after surgery
The Associated Press
Updated: 7:01 p.m. ET Dec. 17, 2004

Surgeons have used stem cells from fat to help repair skull damage in a 7-year-old girl in Germany, in what’s apparently the first time such fat-derived cells have been exploited to grow bone in a human



American Express to cut 2,000 jobs
Company sees pretax charge of up to $120 million
NEW YORK - American Express Friday said it expects to record a fourth-quarter pretax charge of up to $120 million and cut 2,000 jobs related primarily to a restructuring of its business travel unit and the sale of some overseas banking operations.

2nd-graders charged for bringing gun to school
Two N.C. boys also suspended from school for 10 days
The Associated Press
Updated: 7:36 a.m. ET Dec. 18, 2004

MOUNT AIRY, N.C. - Two second-graders were charged after one of the boys brought a .22-caliber pistol to school and let the other boy handle it, authorities said.


There she is ... China’s ‘Miss Plastic Surgery’
Pageant winner has surgeon to thank for her artificial beauty
BEIJING - China chose its first Miss Artificial Beauty on Saturday, giving the crown to a 22-year-old from the northeastern city of Jilin who couldn’t have done it without the help of her plastic surgeon.

Eleven indicted in school corruption probe
Friday, December 17, 2004 Posted: 12:29 PM EST (1729 GMT

NEW ORLEANS, Louisiana (AP) -- Eleven people, including teachers and school secretaries, were indicted Thursday on fraud and theft charges in a continuing FBI probe of corruption in the city's school system.

Kansas death penalty ruled unconstitutional
State's high court throws out law in decision affecting 6 inmates
Friday, December 17, 2004 Posted: 3:56 PM EST (2056 GMT
(CNN) -- Six inmates will be resentenced and avoid execution after the Kansas Supreme Court ruled Friday that the state's death penalty law is unconstitutional.


Harrison Ford may lead charge in Falluja movie
Saturday, December 18, 2004 Posted: 9:49 AM EST (1449 GMT)
LOS ANGELES, California (Reuters) -- Producers at Universal Pictures are developing what would be Hollywood's first feature film about the war in Iraq, with actor Harrison Ford ready to portray a U.S. general in the movie, the studio said on Friday.


Pinochet Hospitalized After Feeling Ill
SANTIAGO, Chile - Gen. Augusto Pinochet was hospitalized in Santiago's Army Hospital Saturday after feeling ill, and will likely undergo a series of tests, his spokesman said.




In other news, I picked up Chuck Klosterman's Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs. I've read the first essay. Brian/Tank was right--I did read it going, YES YES! THAT IS SO RIGHT, while I laughed and felt sad all at the same time. I'm guessing that I'll be finished with it by Sunday and then I'll start into the other book I picked up, John Krakauer's Into Thin Air. His other book, Under the Banner of Heaven--holy cow, talk about good. A bit biased, but a good source of information--you know, the kind you take with a grain of salt. For the most part.

RIP

ok. no stupid entires. drunken, but not embarassing.

let's leave it alone. thank you. and good night.

paint it, black

I admit it--I'm supposed to be writing a paper, but I'm sitting here drinking and waiting for the roommates to come back. Not hardcore drinking, though, please scrap that thought from your pretty little head. Just a bit of amaretto on the rocks--you know, after some baileys on the rocks. And Rolling Stones loudly on the radio.

I should be writing this paper. I really should. I've done a page of it so far--it's only a reflexion. It's about that Borges class I took this semester. Honestly, I've never had a class find its way into my thoughts as frequently as this one has. I'll be thinking about it for years, that's the plain truth. Something about Borges makes me wish I were about fifty years older and could have meet him at some Argentine cafe, only to speak to him for hours.


Otherwise, switching tunes, the men working on the dumpster at the apartments behind our house is still creeping me out. Hearing the banging on the metal makes me think someone is knocking on our screen door. After getting up once, I will never be fooled by that again.

They'll be back soon, then we'll go to Becki's house (probably drink) then go to Necto's. Only to dance until they close the club. And life will be good. It's always good like that.


I began this entry with the intentions of being a big sappy. Two things:

1. I never thought I'd be so glad to live in this house. I am. There's nothing like living with the (majority of) best people you've ever known. Staying up late and talking, drinking and watching Sex and the City when I shouldn't have been--feeling dead every morning has never been so worth it. Situations like that are when my whole you're not promised tomorrow bullshit gets me in trouble.
I'd do it all over again if I could.

2. This mass exodus of everyone. Eric's emails and posts lately have me thinking about it a lot more than I had been in a while. It makes me sad--because everyone is going to scatter to the far reaches of the Earth like some sort of debris from a massive explosion. It's sad because I've never had a better time in my life. Every single day gets better--and I honestly never know what's going to happen. We (I) have done so many (stupid) things in the past year and a half, and it's all been worth it. I'll never regret a second of it. Even breaking my face that one time was something I don't necessarily regret. Yeah, it would have been cool if it hadn't happened, but good things came out of that one also.

So, here's to you. Cheers and one final drink. Must finish this paper.

In the mean time, I hope that you'll find yourself a copy of Borges and read until you can't anymore.

fuck the perfume, give me the warts.

I have this insane love for the Rolling Stones. I mean, it borders on inappropriate. Okay, so maybe not, but I do love them that much. This movie I’m watching, Moonlight Mile, just played it. This fabulous song I’d never heard before. That’s when I knew I was obligated to like the movie no matter what—and the soundtrack. It will be mine as soon as I can get to somewhere that sells it.

The notions of: reality, honesty, going for what you really want.

you gave us all a real big truth enema

It’s important for now—the upcoming months, I mean. To remember that, you know, buying into other people’s dreams for you doesn’t work so well.

I find out about this Teach For America thing within the next few days. Yesterday, they mailed out the notifications. I’m bracing myself for a heart break, either way. A decision has to be made and I’m not so sure that I’ll take it if I get it. Yeah, I want it and I want it really badly—but there are other things I want, too. We’ll see. I’ll admit, there are a lot of things I want to do with AIESEC before I move on.

But yeah. The movie is just… I’mnot sure. It was something, though.
It's about looking at the truth, the harsh reality, and not glazing something over. Fuck the perfume, give me the warts, she says. And I think, exactly.

I think this is something that just needs a walk. Some time to clear my head—and this is perfect walking and thinking weather. It happens best in the winter and that’s good because winter is always the season when you need it the most, dig?

An equation even I can understand:
(wine) roommates^sex and the city * tios delivery = X



So. Here is a story from my heart into yours:

Today was a crazy day. Too many people in the store, which meant my guilt had me help at the registers quite a bit. A mother [with those coke bottle glasses that gave her frog eyes] and a son [think: thirty, thinning hair, looks like he lives in the basement and gets angry with his mother when she doesn’t knock and plays dugeons and dragons in the basement of the union] come up to my register. At the end, I tell her that we have complimentary gift wrappers if she would like to have it wrapped.

gift wrappers? What is that? she says. [remember: she is clearly american, has probably never even left michigan]

While I am thinking of a way to respond, her son says: You know, wrappers--the people who wrap gifts with paper. Not like gangsta rappers, the kind who have drive-bys

He says something else and stares at me, expecting me to laugh because he is [not] clever. And then he wouldn’t stop looking at me while walking away. And there was no one to share that with—so I had to share it here.

make me an offer i can't turn down

Right now, I would like to say: booya. Or perhaps, booja. I will not be picky and I am just as likely to say one or the other.

My hands hurt. My legs hurt. The arches of my feet hurt. Still, my thumb is injured and somehow I aggravated it with all of my insane paper writing skills. Let's just hope that these papers fetch me a B+ or so. Hell, as long as I pass, I will be okay. I've never had a scare with school as bad as I have this semester. It's like I got smacked with the I Suck stick.

Never again--I mean it this time. One more semester, and I'm in the clear. Also, it turns out that I'm a-ok with my Spanish major. I need two more classes, the ones I'm taking next semester. One is a film class with this killer professor that I think is just too funny. He stops every time he sees me and says hi. Over the summer, I must have run into him about fifty GAGILLION times.

I remember sometime last winter when I was standing outside Sarah and Carly's apartment on Packard saying goodnight to someone and he screeched to a halt on his bike to shout, HOOOOOOOLA. COMO ESTAAAAAAAA?? I nearly had a heart attack at the tender age of Too Young.

Besides, how can you not love a professor who teaches you about buggarones and all the things that you always wanted to know about queer culture in el Caribe? Dude is so cool, it hurts.

So I finished both of the papers that I needed to. They're both printed and stapled. I spoke to her and it's fine for me to turn them into her mailbox within the next hour. Then I have to be at work, where I'll negotiate some kind of way for me to get HELLA PAID during this fine, fine winter break. This means I'm staying in Ann Arbor. All of this independence like I have no one else that relies on me is kind of weird. The mother didn't freak out like I thought she was when I told her I would not be gracing her home with my presence this holiday season, but that she is more than welcome to come down. You know, unless she's the one that wants to be lining my wallet with those fine, sexy dead presidents.

(did you hear that they're considering the removal of Alexander Hamilton from the ten note and put Reagan on it instead? Yeah, I know. Because Reagan did so much for the world and Hamilton did nothing, like establish our banking system. GO FIGURE!)

The blind indulgence of substances can begin tomorrow, or tonight, once I finish that English paper about... um, okay, I'll admit that I forgot what it's about--but hey the draft is done so that means I really just have to go through and make it a non-piece of shit. Then I have to do the reflextion for my self-graded class (yes, you read that correctly and no, it is not a Residential College class) and I'm completely finished.

That's hot, right?

I'll find out about Teach for America sometime later this week. I'm not sure if I really want it or not. I mean, of course I want it so badly. At some point in my life, I want to be a part of that program. If I get it, I'm doing it and there is no debate about that. It's just that there are so many other awesome things to do, like continuing with AIESEC--okay, so that's the only other thing.

I suppose, partially, getting TFA would mean having to move on and do things a bit more... grown up-like?
Okay, yeah. Stop laughing.


Right now, I'm just going to bask in my afterglow of writing twelve pages of Spanish in less than twenty-four hours. Four hours of sleep and I've never been happier.

operación: graduarme.

So I've been working on this paper for about five years and it's still not done. After this one, I have another to write, which should be a bit easier. At least the exhaustion is gone--I've been running on E for the last thirty miles and hopefully my body can hold out like that fabulous lamp that burned for... uh, I forgot.

I swear I will finish both of these papers. They may be the crappiest things I have ever produced in any language, but they will be done and in my professors hands in roughly twelve hours. I have twelve hours to write ten more pages in Spanish--that's possible, right? Once these papers are finished, the rest of my life is cake. Two more papers in English. If these were in English, I would tear some shit up, but... they're not and therefore I suck.

Once Wednesday evening hits, I will be a substance abusin' fool. I want to go out Thursday night badly, but need to save the money because the winter conference isn't exactly the cheapest thing on earth. This means that I need to find an alternative way to pay for going out and imbibing on sweet, sweet liquors all night long and dancing until I can't move. You know, like a sugar daddy. This means that my roommates better get on it and start sluttin' it up a bit more--take one for the team and all.

The other thing I love is how my interest level in even the carpet is magnified about six bajillion times whenever I have an assignment to do. I mean, look at all those interesting little colors all wound together. Really, you wouldn't think something so insignificant could take up anyone's time, but I dare you to name all the different colors you can find in a square foot. Yeah, that's what I thought.

Okay. Focus. We're talkin' Puerto Rico, colonialism, Piñero, Esteves, sexualidad y el cuerpo. Si podría dicer coño en el trabajo, pienso que prestaría más attención.

A nice house with a big yard--a treehouse in the back that's hidden in the branches year round. One you could sit in and just smoke all day long, while staring at the clouds race across the sky. Dig? Maybe some gardens along the edge of the yard--some flowers, a lot of strawberries and tomatoes. The kind of grass would be that really dark, thick-bladed kind. The one that you pick in the summer and place between your thumbs, then press your lips against it and make that noise.

Being able to go up on the roof is more important than having a good porch. There's nothing like late nights when you sit out on the porch and look at the sky [doesn't matter if you can see the stars, or simply thnk the lights from airplanes are stars between all of the lamp posts]--drinking some kiwi lime mad dog and smoking an authentic cubano for the first time, inhaling when you're not supposed to and singeing your insides black.

The summer was really nice and I wish I could go back to it. There's nothing like working forty hours a week, turning 21 and being able to do AIESEC as much as possible. Living across the street from trainees is probably one of the best things I could have done--you know, beside living in that house with all foreign men. France, Costa Rica and Mexico. I miss all the French kids smoking the hookah and coming home to a porch with twenty plus Europeans and misc. others.

Summer is the thing that dreams are made of.


The problem with public journals: you can never say what you're really thinking. sometimes.

half-past

It feels a lot later than it is. Not sure where that's coming from--probably because most of the house is asleep and the house is half-bare. They cleared most of the house out because they're throwing a party tomorrow. You'd think someone should be proud because I'm going to be writing my papers instead of at the house, or at the "non-frat's" formal because they invited the whole house. Honestly, this must mean we rock. Or something.

Everything else means that I'm a slacker who's paying for it by having to write papers instead of hanging out with my friends.


There's this park over where my dad used to live and I haven't been there in a few months. When we were younger, we'd walk over there all the time after school. It wasn't that far from the school we went to and is just down the street from where my mom and uncles went to primary school. There's this big ampitheater on one half of the park and you can hear everything all around you--anything you say gets sent in waves to the apartments hundreds of yards away. On the other half, there's the playground that we went to last year sometime when they were deciding the EB and Sarah was stressed out. Between the two is a baseball diamond.

During the day in the summer, you can walk through the park and there are all of these people just laying in the grass and relaxing. Once, I walked the dog through there and there were all these people decked out in suits stretched out and enjoying their one hour of freedom before another six and then home. And I still have pictures of the paintings that one artist used to draw on the stage every summer. Somewhere, we have the words written down. It went with this quote from Sleepers--about being young and the nights and the streets lay sparkling ahead and on and on and on.

a is for

When I get really bored, sometimes I make lists. I'll sit there in class and write out these lists going from a to z with different themes. I'd write one now, but my mind isn't in the right places to do so.


Quote: I am such a ho.
I won't tell you that Amber is the one that said that. I won't tell you why either.


Today, I was talking to my mom on the way back to class, after I spoke to the professor who is definitely allowing me to save my own ass, to make sure that I could borrow some cash for WSC until the semester begins and I get paid shittons. We were talking about my little sister and I was wondering if she'd applied to Michigan yet. This little kid, she's just nuts. You wouldn't believe she's part of the family. At least, we finally got her to be able to take sarcasm--after years of my getting in trouble for making her cry. Now, she's stuck in that I'm Teenage and Angst-Ridden and Smarter Than Your Stupid Ass phase. We all went through it, right?

Mom has this kind of fatalist outlook on life and it's partially to blame for my flaming descent in the whole Am I Gonna Graduate? game. It's okay though--everyone was right and things do seem to be working themselves out at the end of the semester and maybe all of those nights hanging out with people, staying up late and verbally dreaming together was worth it.

Let's not be ridiculous. Of course it was worth it. Do you really think I'm going to regret running out to the bar when hearing that someone's in town? Or skipping class because we went out a bit too hard the night before? (By the way, there's no such thing as that) Or staying up until three thirty when I have to be at work at seven so we could fall into fits of laughter instead?

I'd rather live than be responsible.
You're not promised tomorrow, so you best enjoy today.

right? Yessss.




Quote of the night: Sometimes when you get rejected, you just want to FUCK.

I won't say who said that one either.

oh, to be a graduate.

Hmm. I've done this whole online diary thing before--but never where i decided to share it. we'll see how long this baby lasts. yessss.

Tonight was the last GMM. Yesterday was the last ITM meeting. The day before, the last EBM. It's a weird feeling--but it's not a feeling at the same time, dig? On the walk home with Li'er, it wasn't very cold and the weather almost felt just right. The night was really dark and we were almost mowed down by an angry, speeding SUV. It was red and the headlights were brighter than bright, you know, kind of like what the light at the end of the tunnel must look like.

I tried to explain things to her, or really think aloud and figure it out how it is that I feel. About what? A year gone by [too] quickly. All of these things that have happened and just changed my life forever. Cliche, cliche, cliche--but those are the things that are quick to fall from your mouth when you start speaking about AIESEC, right?

Oh well, tonight marks my descent into the life of an NFT aaaaand potentially someone that has an opportunity to graduate next semester if i can get my shit together. I did not fail my creative writing class. For some reason, he gave me a B, which is much more than I deserve. I can't even argue it. I didn't know what to say.

I like your stories, as always. I just wish we could have worked on them together.

Hearing that is much better than hearing: I don't know what to tell you.

That one sucked. Oh well.

Five papers to go--then I'm free for the semester.